Harry Potter: The Reason Why
by xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx
Summary: Follows Hooked on You - After five years Marcus Flint is reunited with the love of his life.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own any rights to Marcus Flint or anything else related to Harry Potter. I do, however, own the rights to the Blackheart family and that includes Phoebe so please do not steal or use them.

* * *

**Title: **The Reason Why

**Summary: **Follows Hooked on You - After five years Marcus Flint is reunited with the love of his life.

* * *

The evening felt strangely familiar as Phoebe peeked through her curtains at the carriages that rolled up under the full moon. She watched for a while and then went back to looking at herself in the mirror. Her godmother had come in earlier and made a fuss over her beauty, and Phoebe found that she could not argue. She was beautiful... there was no doubt about it.

Her face was fashionably pale with rosy cheeks; her eyes were stormy grey and her hair black with white streaks. Her lashes were long, and she batted them at her reflection.

It was pleasing to look at her hips and breasts and waist under the light green gown and bustle, which had taken forever and the help of four maids to get on. However, she wished the gown was red. Green reminded her too much of _him_!

Her heart ached at the mere thought of him and she had to shake her head to banish away the thoughts that had surfaced. Tonight was about her and her new soon-to-be fiancée... she could not let old memories cloud her better judgment now.

He was gone... she had left him... five years ago she had walked out on a life that she never knew existed... he had probably moved on! Found himself someone else to screw around! So why should she put herself through the pain of thinking about him when it was plainly obvious that he was not thinking about her?

Her legs were pretty too, and well-muscled: she stretched one forth and admired it. No one would ever see them besides her, of course, except for her future husband or a close maid. She had always found it strange why she was insisted on exposing most of her chest while hiding the lower half of her body.

She remembered how earlier that day, she had sat with her godmother and chatted with tailors and artisans, shopped for masks with her grandmother, and chose the dress. Phoebe had wound up choosing not an animal or traditional bauta, but a simple white one, decorated with feathers and tiny silver six-pointed stars, held up by a slender wand and decorated with ribbons that flowed down like a drift of snow.

During the night, whenever she couldn't sleep, her mind would wander and she would question her in ability to fall asleep as quick as she used too. She set it down to discomfort, when it truth it was because the bed had become somewhat unfamiliar.

In her mind all she could see was the black and green sheets of the Slytherin four poster beds, the silkiness of the sheets against her bare skin, the source of heat and comfort of his body - she would imagine this and then snap to attention. He was everywhere!

"It has been five years," she told her reflection. "He has moved on... it is time that you did the same!"

But this was easier said than done.

It was expected that the heir to the Santos estate would propose to her that night, like something right out of a fairy tale. And if that did not happen, well, she was going to be introduced to a number of suitable suitors. She was twenty-two, for heaven's sake. She should have been married five years ago.

As if on cue, her godmother knocked rapidly and came in. It was the only thing about being back at Blackheart Manor that she hated. Everyone and anyone could barge right into her room, she did not mind this if she was in bed, but there were times when even she needed her privacy.

"Come dear,"

Serefina held out her hand and escorted her goddaughter to the top of the staircase, and then, letting go, she descended the stairs ahead of the young heiress.

She descended the staircase in a grand entrance, the way she was expected. Her grandfather took her by the fingertips and led her down to the floor, introducing her as he went. He held a mask but didn't wear it.

The fact that she had isolated herself for nearly five years, made it almost impossible for Phoebe to remember who half the people at the Ball were. Several people introduced themselves, but for the sake of her sanity, Phoebe could not say that she remembered them and resorted to merely smiling and nodding in agreement with everything they said.

She felt like a blank slate. Allowed to meet people she had known her whole life as if for the first time.

The hall and ballroom were lit with hundreds of candles in little silver candleholders, the mirrors shining with their reflected light. Guests filled every nook and hall of the Manor.

Ladies swished broad, elegant skirts trimmed with layers of silk and lace that cascaded in tiers, trains just skimming the floor. Long gloves covered bear arms; dark silk ribbons encircled bare necks and trailed down their blocks like streams of blood.

The young men were slim, elegant and serious; the old men were handsome and jolly. All wore similar black suits with white shirts, as if to better show off their peacock women, and all offered to kiss Phoebe's hand, welcoming her back to her homeland.

The servants were beside themselves, also elegantly dressed and passing trays of goodies and drinks. Waves of perfume hit her, musky and floral, light and overwhelming, and the sounds of laughter and music filled her head. It was all very, very beautiful - but she wanted more than anything to just grab a tray of food, a glass of champagne, and hide in her bedroom for the rest of the night.

But just before she could even consider escaping, the heir to the Santos estate was bowing elegantly to her and offering her his hand; she took it.

Everyone watched as he led her slowly across the floor. There was once a time that she had loved to dance, but several events had happened in the course of her life and it had been pushed aside, just like everything else. Now it was nothing more than a memory.

Throughout the entire dance, Phoebe found herself scanning the crowd, hoping that she would recognize someone. Had any of her friends been invited this evening? One mask caught her eye; a black grotesque in the shape of a skull. For some reason it gave her a warm feeling.

She kept her eye on the person wearing it through three dances, trying to work her way over to him. She thought she lost him at the fourth, a waltz, she had always hated this form of dance, but he tapped her shoulder from behind.

"May I have this dance?" he asked.

His voice - familiar - it made her heart race exceedingly fast and her mouth became dry.

"I have not finished!" the Santos heir protested. "She is mine for this evening!"

Phoebe ignored him, unable to take her eyes off of the Death Eater mask. She should have sounded the alarm... but she knew that she was in no immediate danger. "Of course," she said, picking up her skirt and taking his hand.

The heir of Santos huffed in frustration and annoyance, turned and stormed away, leaving Phoebe and her new partner alone.

She dropped her fan and picked up her train as he took her in his arms.

They were exactly as she remembered them.

"Why didn't you come back?" he whispered.

"Not here," she answered. "There is a room, just off this hall! The parlor! Get me out of here!"

They danced off the floor and he led her into the small study.

The moment the door closed behind them, Phoebe turned and kissed him.

Taken by surprise, Marcus paused momentarily, before placing his hand on the back of her neck to keep her from pulling away.

His fingers entwined in her hair, the other curling around her waist.

Memories rushed from every direction - memories that she had tried to push aside - memories of a life that she had walked out on. _It was not meant to be_... yet maybe, just maybe, they were meant to be.

"Flint," she whispered again. Her stomach churned.

"I'm here..." he answered her, sucking on her bottom lip.

She felt her legs become weak and knew that she would have fallen had it not been for his arm around her waist.

"Why did you come here?" she asked.

"I came for you!"

"Why?"

"When you left five years ago," he answered. "I promised that I would find you again! And now I have!"

"Yes, but why?"

That was all she had ever questioned when she was around him: Why had he chosen her as his plaything? Why had he chosen her to hook up with? Why did he keep returning for more - especially when it was clear that they hated one another - and now, why had he returned, after she had specifically left him? She had always questioned why and never received an answer - now... was the time for answers.

"Because," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper as he brushed his lips lightly against her own. "I love you!"

Needless to say, she was shocked. Never, in all her years, would she say that Marcus Flint _loved_ her - hated her, yes - loved her? No! But now that he had said it, she was confused about everything!

There was still the fact that they were supposed to be enemies! He was supposed to be in prison... would have been had it not been for her.

That was another enigma that plagued her - why had she saved him that day? Did she feel that it was her duty because he had saved her from the raging war? Killed Warrington as he prepared to end her miserable existence during the final battle?

Or was it for some other reason? Was it possible that some of the feelings of hatred and transformed into something more, and the mere thought of him rotting away in Azkaban was something that she could not stand to think about?

He was staring at her now... his dark gaze boring deep into her stormy grey one.

What could she say?

"Phoebe..."

He whispered her name and it startled her... when was the last time he had called her by her first name? - Never! That was when.

Not once, in the five years they had hooked up, did he ever refer to her by 'Phoebe' it was always 'Blackheart...' and she always called him 'Flint...' but most of the time they never said a word to one another.

That was the whole point.

But without thinking the words slipped past her lips as easy as her own name.

She was in love with Marcus Flint.

* * *

**Copyrighted ©**

**A/N: **Yay! Here is the sequel! I have one more story after this and I wish I could say it was a happy one. It is set five years after this. So that is ten years after 'Hooked on You.' and five years after 'The Reason Why.'

**Chapter written by xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx**

**Chapter updated Sunday, June 03, 2012 at 6:44pm**


End file.
